Read Online Adam: A Sensuous Coming of Age Tale by Anthony McDonald - Free Book Online Page B

cressy leaves, and orange-tip butterflies were delicately reconnoitring them from the surrounding air. The first innocent leaves of nettle were beginning to green the muddy edges of the watercourses. Adam hopped up onto the rail and sat there by himself for a minute. No-one came along. He got down from his perch and began to make his way purposefully along the path he had taken with Fox exactly a week ago. Wood warblers called from the greening willows and a blackcap, mapping its territory in song from the tip of a bramble spike, sprinted off into the air at his approach. ‘Sorry,’ he said to it and thought he sounded like one of Schubert’s lovelorn anti-heroes communing with the wild things, then he thought of Fotherington-Thomas and was glad there had been nobody to hear him.
    Up the path he trailed, along the valley-side, until the path began its final steeper climb to the cliff-edge clearing. He stopped for a second. Nature had fallen silent for a moment; there was just the rush of the hidden stream far below. Then he climbed the final slope and emerged into the dappled light of the clearing. His journey had been in vain. It had been silly to think of Fox’s casual remark as constituting any kind of appointment. It was just something people said. Fox wasn’t a responsible adult anyway. And Adam had not even replied. Besides, it was already later now than the time at which they had parted last week. He was cross with himself. And alone.
    Until he turned slowly round and saw Fox sitting perfectly still at the edge of the clearing, taking the sun in the manner of his furry namesake and regarding him with the same amused stare. He was naked to the waist, his dark pullover lay half balled-up under the palm of his hand, and the slanting sun laid bars of alternate golden light and bronze shadow over his chest.
    ‘ Good camouflage,’ said Adam. ‘Tu vas bien?’ Fox looked like … Adam tried to think what. It was a photograph, a famous photograph, a very old photo … a ballet dancer stripped to the waist …
    ‘ Et toi?’ Fox didn’t move or even extend a hand. He waited. So did Adam. Then he walked slowly towards Fox and sat on the ground beside him . L’après-midi d’un faune, thought Adam. Nijinsky.
    ‘ You came,’ said Fox. ‘I wasn’t sure you would. I remember how you ran away the first time.’
    ‘ That was different,’ said Adam, feeling like Alice addressing some strange creature or other. ‘ I didn’t know you then.’ Then, from a wretched ingrained habit of politeness that he regretted as soon as the words came obediently trotting out: ‘ I’m sorry I’m late.’
    ‘ I’m glad you’re here,’ said Fox simply. Then his face relaxed into a smile and he changed the subject. ‘ It’s your first year here, no? You’re going to like the colours.’
    ‘ How do you mean?’
    ‘ Next month the fields turn yellow, almost from night to day. It’s a soft yellow like a Chablis wine. The next month everything goes blue.’
    ‘ You mean the flowers? The wild flowers colour the fields? Is that what you mean?’
    Fox ignored the interruption. ‘Then yellow again. This time a deep gold like the butter, like the sun. Finally it all goes red. The colour of blood. Fresh blood.’ Fox wanted to be exact.
    ‘ Why do you say finally?’ asked Adam, slightly anxious. ‘You’ve only gone as far as June or July.’
    ‘ No more colour after that,’ explained Fox matter-of-factly ‘The fields are cut for hay. And then the summer bleaches all the colour out of everything. Until the autumn comes again.’ Fox had been looking ahead of him. Now he turned towards Adam and smiled. ‘But that is where you came in.’
    ‘ Do you go to the cinema, from time to time?’ Adam heard himself absurdly ask.
    Fox took the question seriously. ‘Not often. But I’ve been to films. On n’est pas si plouque que ça.’ Not that much of a yokel.
    Adam gave an embarrassed giggle and looked down. His eyes engaged with